


The Full Moon

by ladyoneill



Series: Games We Play: Teen Wolf Mating Game Entries [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:19:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're lovers, mates, equals, except on the nights of the full moon, when Stiles submits to the werewolf he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mating Games 2014 round two which was to incorporate werewolf traits like claws, fangs, knots, etc.

He loves the full moon.

There have been twelve since he was first claimed by his mate. It's an anniversary and they're going to celebrate.

He runs.

You shouldn't run from a predator, but he's not trying to get away. It's a chase to stir the blood of both hunter and hunted.

Bursting into a small clearing, the moon shining brightly directly overhead, he hears the growl from behind him and a shiver goes through him. Fear is a natural reaction, no matter that his head knows his mate won't hurt him. His brain is being overridden by his own primal instincts.

Run. Escape.

His feet are already moving his body out of the clearing, when he's hit in the back, taken down to the mossy covered ground. Landing hard, the air driven from him, he feels hot moist breath on the back of his neck before fangs lock on gently.

The sensation of being pinned, forced to submit, sends a jolt of lust straight to his cock which hardens beneath him. His mate grumbles, rocks against him, and he's hard, too. Hard and naked.

It's only a matter of minutes before his clothes are shredded by claws that are so careful. Fabric rips away but his skin is untouched. Cool air ghosts over him, making him shiver again, but then he's warmed by his mate covering him. Clawed hands wraps around his stomach, lifting him to his knees, and the fangs that never broke skin leave his neck, but he keeps his head down in submission.

On other nights they're equals, switching up in their big, warm bed, but here, in the forest, beneath the moon, he's the one who is always taken.

So, he prepares beforehand with a thick dildo slick with lube, and, supported by the wolf's strong hands, he reaches back, parts his ass cheeks, arches his spine, and opens himself. 

A howl of pleasure and his mate is inside him, driving to the balls with one hard thrust. It burns, but the pain is so good. He's so full and his cock is aching and dripping onto the ground. Digging one hand into the dirt, he wraps the other around his dick, pumping it, pre-cum making his hand slick, the friction just perfect. His fingers clench and he throws back his head and yells.

In their bed, they can be loving, slow, tender, but under the moon they rut like the animals they are. His mate thrusts hard and fast, driving them both across the soft dirt, skidding them both on their knees. He ignores the scrapes forming--later his mate will bathe him, gently picking dirt and grit from the minor wounds, soothing any pains. Now, all he wants is the fucking and the moon and his wolf. Claws prick at his stomach, pulling him back onto the cock inside him. He revels in it, slapping his hips backwards, pumping his dick in his fist.

He hears his mate sniffing the air, then a clawed hand knocks his away from his cock, the other grabbing his neck, forcing his face down into the moss and leaves. The new angle of his ass in the air makes the dick inside him hit his prostate with every thrust, and he shudders and whines and humps nothing.

"Please let me come, oh fuck, let me come, please," he begs, over and over, on the edge and wanting so badly. 

The wolf growls deeply, hips pummeling harder, balls slapping, and claws pricking tender skin.

Feeling his mate getting closer, losing his rhythm, hot pants of air hitting his trembling back, he begs again, this time just a non-verbal whine as his whole body shakes with both the thrusts and his own desperate need.

"Come."

"Ohgodohgodohgod, Peter!" he howls as, dick untouched, he orgasms into the dirt and over his stomach. Just that voice, so inhuman, so deep and passionate and raw...

"Stiles," Peter growls, a long, reverberating sound, as he comes in his mate and takes him carefully to the ground, their hips slowing as their hunger fades to tenderness.

Peter's tongue licks gently at the marks on Stiles' neck, the new ones that just bruised, the old, mating bite that scarred.

Stiles smiles and reaches back to caress Peter's furry cheek.

Above them the moon shines on.

End


End file.
